New Team On the Block
by ThatDude15
Summary: Damian Vincent Price: the banished son of a wealthy business mogul. Natsumi Eloxochitl: an orphaned girl living in the harsh slums of Brazil. This is the story of how they escaped from their shattered lives and became the newest Meister/Weapon team at Death Weapon Meister Academy. (Eventual Damian X Natsumi)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone. This is the first chapter of my new series. This is about my Soul Eater OC's, Damian and Natsumi. But it's about their stories before and as they came to the DWMA and became partners. A quick shoutout to LuvsOCs: you said you wanted more about their story, well here it is. I hope you and everyone else enjoys it.**

**The Road to Redemption: Part 1. The Boy Who Ran Away?**

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"The life I lead...is a lie," he thought as he road his bicycle down the main dirt road of the seaside fishing town in Wales. He took in the salty sea air and dished out a few more newspapers as he recollected his life so far. "I used to be somebody. The eldest son and heir to the Price Importing and Exporting Company and their family fortune. The problem is that that somebody isn't the person I wanna be."

"What do you mean 'incapable of labor'," Thomas Sheldon Price asked in a surly tone, not looking away from the newspaper he was currently reading. He was sitting behind an elegant wooden desk in his business office in the city of London, England. He was a middle-aged man with light skin and graying-brown hair.

"Well, you see, sir," his warehouse control manager, Dean, began, "it was a terrible accident, just dreadful. The man tried picking up a crate and stuck his hand with a rather large splinter. Crate fell and he tried to catch it, sadly at the expense of breaking both his hands. Doctors say he'll be in the hospital about a week with another week or so of physical therapy." The young manager twiddled nervously with the cap in his hands, glancing up briefly and repeatedly to see his boss' reaction to the bad news.

"Hm, so that's two weeks without work at least," Mr. Price folded the newspaper and calmly set it aside. "Fine then, fire him." Dean shot his head up quickly when he heard his boss' order. To lay off a man who injured himself in the line of work was just...so cruel.

"My apologies, sir, but don't you think you're acting a bit too rashly," Dean asked in as respectful a tone he could muster.

"A man who can't work is simply not worth his paycheck," Mr. Price said, keeping his composure after condemning a man to unemployment. "It's simply a business decision. Nothing personal."

"With respect, sir, but I don't think it would be wise to-" the young Mr. Dean was stopped dead in his tracks by a sharp look from his superior. Every word he meant to say rapidly dropped back down past his stomach.

"I would kindly remind you to pay close attention to who it is you deem unwise, Mr. Dean," Mr. Price spoke once more in his calm but commanding tone. Even so, it reeked of impatience and quiet fury. "Now, unless you wish to be laid off as well for insubordination, I suggest you turn tail back to your station and begin typing up those walking papers for our unfortunate injury patient." With that, Mr. Dean swallowed hard and exited the office with nothing but a simple "Yes, sir". Mr. Price sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Pop, why did you have to fire the man. He only got hurt. He'll be fine, right," Mr. Price looked to the left side of his office where his 6 year old son, Damian, sat previously endulged with a coloring book. Mr. Price smiled, got up, and sat next to his son.

"I'm sure he will be, son," Mr. Price said as he playfully tussled his son's hair. "But I can't function the company if all the parts aren't working. I didn't intend on being mean. As I said, it's only in the interest of business. Someday you'll understand."

"Someday when I'm a businessman like you, pop," Damian beamed at his father. He looked so much like him except his ears, or rather the ear lobes, were detached unlike his father's which were attached. And his smile, Damian's smile shined like his mother's, Amanda.

"Yep," Mr. Price hugged his son, "just like your old pop."

That was 9 nine years ago when that conversation toon place. And in all that time, Damian never saw the good business in firing an injured man. When he was young and innocent he was too engulfed in his families wealth to see the suffering of the lower working class. Many of whom were employed by his iron-fisted father. But as time passed and as he grew, he saw the hardship that the poor went through. His mother, Amanda, started out rather pure of heart. But since she married Damian's father, she was slowly hypnotized by the sudden access to such wealth. It was around the age of 11 when Damian gained his rebellious attitude. He would speak out against his father's vicious business affairs. When he attended formal gatherings, he wouldn't speak unless to assert his bad opinion of the rich in society. After two years of it, his parents had had enough. Damian's father enrolled him to Royal Lake Boys Academy, a private learning institution many miles north of London. Damian was an outcast among all the proudly-wealthy prep students and was constantly harassed for his undesireable viewpoint. Damian, however, didn't take the bullying lying down. He would get into fights nearly every other day, for which he would be punished and beaten more by the school faculty. After the third month of his enrollment, Damian ran away from Royal Lake. He had seen a railroad station upon his journey to the academy, which he set as his waypoint. He then snuck aboard a train, not knowing where it would take him. Anywhere was better than where he was. The train stopped just a mile outside a small fishing town where it would load up on fish and other seafood to transport elsewhere. Damian saw the quaint, working community and made a home there. Damian created a new life for himself under the name "David" or "Davey" as the townspeople began to call him. He got a job at the small local newspaper company, delivering papers all throughout town. Damian found that the money he made wasn't enough to make a living there. As much as he hated it, as much as it made him feel like his money-grubbing father, Damian resorted to pickpocketing and other thievery to make ends meet. It wasn't a wholesome, honest living. But it was all he could do to survive.

Damian finished his paper route and brought the bike back to the newspaper shop. He parked it and locked it to the bike stand in front of the shop. He walked in, the salty smell turning to one of ink and newsprint.

"That's the last of them for today, Mr. Finnegan," Damian said approaching his boss. Mr. Finnegan was an elderly, good-natured Irishman. Stood about a foot-and-a-half with a rather rotund, jolly stomach. He'd taken a shine to his young employee over the past 2 years. Damian appreciated Mr. Finnegan greatly. Not only had he given him a job, but he supplied a place to live as well. There were several bedrooms in the top floor of the shop, one of which Damian now occupied. In return for boarding, Damian would deliver papers and otherwise help around the shop, as well as being paid a weekly sum of £20.

"Haha, great work then, lad," Mr. Finnegan said with a warm smile. "I think I'll close up shop early today. Business 'as been a bit slower than usual."

"You mind if I go out for a walk, Mr. Finnegan," Damian asked.

"Sure thin', boy," Mr. Finnegan said stacking the last bit of newsprint. "Jus' be back 'fore 6."

"Right then, thanks sir," Damian said. He walked back out of the shop and down the street. Even with Damian's pay, he was a bit shorthanded on cash at the moment. It was a calm, unsuspecting afternoon so Damian decided it was as good a time as ever to score a bit more money. He walked down to the docks and sat on a bench, analyzing the crowd for any easy targets. He noticed a young blonde man in a priest outfit who absurdly enough had two skull-shaped earphones in his ears. Robbing a priest would seem like a very heinous act in most people's book. But Damian had never been much of a religious person growing up the way he did. Damian decided to investigate the man more closely. He casually got up and started walking behind the priest. He was about 4 feet from the priest and he could still hear the music blaring in the man's ears. "There's no way he can tell if I take something from him," Damian thought. Damian walked a bit closer and synchronized his steps with the priest's. He slowly reached into one of the young priest's pockets when suddenly-

"Oh, hello. Can I help you with something," the young priest turned and asked Damian with a calm smile. Damian froze and glanced at the man nervously.

"Fuck! How did he noticed me," Damian thought. "Uhhhhhhh...," Damian uttered, his mind racing to find a way out.

"Oh, I see you found my wallet," the young priest said looking at Damian's hand in his pocket. "Is it money you need? Here, I have more than I even need." The priest then took several £50 bills out of his wallet and handed them to a shocked Damian.

"Umm...thanks," Damian said cautiously taking the money he had been offered.

"Tis only the good will of the Lord, my friend," the priest said rather flamboyantly gesturing to the sky.

"Oh yeah," Damian began to bluff, "God is good. He is very, very good."

"Oh, you mistake me," the priest said with another smile. "I didn't mean the Lord as you may know him. I was referring to Lord Death." Damian was shocked once again. Since when do priests worship Death?

"Uhh...you're gonna have to explain that, sir," Damian said. "What do you mean 'Lord Death'?" The eyes of the priest widened as did his smile. He took Damian aside and began to explain himself. How he came from a far off place in America called "Death Weapon Meister Academy", or the DWMA. About the school being run by Death himself to train young adolescents to fight against the evils of insanity and madness by reaping the souls of people who had strayed from the path of humanity. About Meisters being well trained in combat and to wield Demon Weapons, people who had the ability to transform into powerful weapons made for reaping evil souls. About how he was an elite member of the academy who had achieved the title of "Death Scythe", one of Death's own personal weapons. It was quite a yarn being spun, but Damian wasn't about to believe a word of it without SOME form of verification.

"If you expect me to believe you, you better show me some bloody good proof," Damian said with a wildly skeptical look on his face. The young priest smiled and took a careful look around. Afternoon had turned to evening through the length of this conversation, so the streets were rather clear. Those who were still about were not paying attention to the priest and teenager sitting on the bench. The priest looked back at Damian and in a great flash of light, his forearm sprouted a guillotine-like blade. Damian was taken aback and nearly jumped off the bench. He settled down and examined the blade on the priest's arm. He was flabbergasted to find that it was 100% genuine. In another flash of light, the blade dissapeared from the priest's arm.

"...okay, that's proof enough," Damian said in a low voice. "So...can all people do this and they just don't know it?"

"Nope, only some humans possess this ability," the priest said. "And before you ask, if you possessed the ability, you would've discovered it long ago." A knowing smile crossed the priest's face.

"Well, that's a little disappointing," Damian sighed. "So can Meister's wield any weapon they want?"

"No," the priest answered, "Demon Weapons normally have one to a few weapon forms. Even so, the relationship between Meister and Weapon is dependent on the compatibility of their souls." Damian was endlessly intrigued by this talk of the DWMA and Meisters and Weapons.

"Oh, where are my manners," the priest apologized, "I've been distracted by friendly conversation. My name is Justin Law." Justin extended his hand to Damian. Damian shaked his hand.

"Davey," Damian have Justin his town-name.

"I consider us to already be good friends," Justin said, "but I would appreciate if you gave me your real name." Damian froze nervously and took a deep breath.

"Damian," he said, "Damian Vincent Price."

"I appreciate your friendship, Damian," Justin said with another one of his bright smiles. "I would also appreciate it if you would accompany me back to the DWMA to begin training as a Meister." Damian looked confusedly at Justin. Was he asking what he thought he was asking him?

"So this means if I go with you, I get to make a friend who's a weapon and use said weapon friend to reap the souls of evildoers and other assorted badassery," Damian asked.

"It is rather badass, isn't it," Justin chuckled. "But yes, that is essentially the idea."

"Of course I'll bloody do it," Damian exclaimed, grabbing the collar of Justin's outfit and shaking him.

"I'm glad to see you're so ecstatic," Justin said. "Is there anyone you wanna say goodbye to before you leave?"

"Well," Damian thought, "there's this man, Mr. Finnegan. He gave me a job and roof over my head when I first came to this town."

"He sounds like a very generous individual," Justin said standing up. "Let us go to him and tell him the news." Damian nodded and led Justin to Mr. Finnegan's newspaper shop. They walked into the shop.

"Mr. Finnegan," Damian called. "Could you come down here really quick?"

"Be right there, boy'o," Mr. Finnegan said from upstairs. He slowly came down the stairs to see his employee and priest standing before him. "Oh, Father," Mr. Finnegan quickly made the Sign of the Cross, "w-wha' brings you to me humble shop at this hour?" Damian waited for Justin to break the news to Mr. Finnegan. He glanced up and was shocked to see that his earphones were back in his ears and blasting music. What kind of fucking manners were these!?

"Uh...Father," Mr. Finnegan asked confusedly.

"Oh, pardon me dear sir," Justin apologized. Apparently he could understand speech even when listening to music. "I believe my new young friend, Damian, has something to say before I begin." Justin glanced down at Damian with a calm smile on his face. He clearly meant for Damian to reveal his illegal activities. But to say this to a man like Mr. Finnegan, a man who gave him new life, the man Damian respected more than perhaps anyone else in his entire life. What would he say? Would he be sad, angry, ashamed, heartbroken? But Damian knew that if he ever hoped to become a Meister, he would have to show initiative and leave behind the sins of his past. To do that, he had to reveal to the person he respected most. He stepped forward and took a deep breath.

"Mr. Finnegan, I'm not who you think I am. My name isn't Davey, it's Damian. When I'm not working for you, sometimes I go out and try to score some more cash. Sometimes I steal things from stores and merchants, sometimes I pickpocket people. And that's how I met this man," Damian motioned to Justin. Mr. Finnegan's face was struck with shock, concern, and confusion. Damian went on. "He is a member of an...uh, overseas academy in America and he wants me to come with him to enroll. I'm sorry if all this news is too much for you and I'm sorry that I've dissapointed you so greatly. You have much of my respect, for you gave me a new life. I hope to revoke my sins and repay you for your kindness one day." Mr. Finnegan stood there for a moment, mouth slightly agape at the sudden revelation. He breathed a deep sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Ah lad, this is quite a pill to swallow," Mr. Finnegan said, now laying his soft elderly gaze on Damian. "I am disappointed to hear all this about you." He slowly walked and kneeled in front of Damian.

"Sir, please don't think ill of-"

"Boy'o, lemme finish," Mr. Finnegan calmly exclaimed. "Look, I know why ya' did wha' ya' did. Yu're a young'n still, young'ns make mistakes. But...if this is wha' ya' gotta do, if this is wha' you believe yur nex' chapter is, then you yurself have the freedom to do it." Damian looked up at him with grateful eyes. He gave Mr. Finnegan a big hug.

"Thank you, sir," Damian said.

"Don' call me sir anymore, I'm no' yur boos no more," Mr. Finnegan said. "The name's Robert. Now go on, boy. Make yur own destiny." Damian smiled.

"Thanks, Robert," Damian said. He looked back to Justing and saw him holding his hands to his heart and moaning.

"Oh my Lord," Justin shouted to the heavens, "how it pains me to separate two people with such a deep rooted father-son relationship. Oh Lord of Death, I promise this boy will show great promise as a Meister. He will walk the path of righteousness once more. Oh humble, all-knowing Lord Death, take him under your wing and accept him to our fold. For he shall not quit, he shall not waiver, he shall serve us well. Amen." With his sermon now complete, Damian and Mr. Finnegan gaped in confusion at the young blonde priest's words.

"Uh, boy...wha' was that he was talkin' 'bout some 'Death Lord'," Mr. Finnegan asked. Damian quickly tugged Justin by the collar and out of the newspaper shop.

"Sorry to leave so soon, Robert, but Mr. Priest and I must be off now. I'll try to visit again someday. Okay, bye," Damian said rushedly, walking down the street with Justin in tow. When they got well away from the shop, Damian snapped.

"What the bloody hell was that about," Damian shouted. "Don't go spewing all this bullshit about Lord Death and stuff around regular people! They'll put you in the fucking loony bin!"

"Do pardon me," Justin apologized, now walking down the street lining the docks. "I was just so overcome with joy at the compassion you two show each other." Damian walked alongside Justin and sighed exhaustively.

"Jesus, if I hang out with you anymore, I'M the one who's gonna go fucking loony," Damian said in a surly tone. "So then, where to now, Justin."

"Well, my work in this town is completed. I believe the only place to go from here," Justin smiled wide at Damian, "is your soon-to-be new home."

"So, America then, is that it," Damian said. During his time, he'd heard many things of America. Mostly through his father's business and a bit in school. It was all rather mixed, not bad or good. Damian wondered how he would get accustomed to life in not only a new school and city, but an entirely new country. Damian took another great breath of the relaxing sea air and continued walking down the nighttime, lantern-lit street with his new mentor, Justin Law. Things were to become very interesting in the coming year.

**Well, I hope you enjoyed this. The next chapter will be about Natsumi. Hope you'll stick around for more. See ya then.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everybody. Welcome to my second chapter. I thank those of you who enjoyed my first chapter and have decided to come along for this ride. And now, Natsumi's story/**

**The Road to Redemption: Part 2. A Lonely Girl's Revenge?**

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My parents were interesting people. The day I was born, my last name wasn't automatically the last name of my father. My father, Yuji Kazuto, and my mother, Gloria Nacimento, decided to make my name more...unique.

"What should we name her, Yuji," my mother asked. She was lying in the bed of her very small apartement in the favelas just outside Rio de Janeiro. The local midwife had just delivered the baby and washed it of the birth blood. The newborn, a darkskinned girl, was now wrapped in a blanket and in the arms of her mother. She was crying and wailing earlier, but had since calmed down. Her tiny eyelids were still closed as she breathed softly.

"Gloria," Yuji said, taking his wife's free hand, "knowing life here in the favelas, we both may not be here for her very long."

"Yuji! Stop it, don't say things like that," Gloria protested.

"Please my love, you know this to be true," Yuji continued. Gloria gave a quiet sigh and listened. "All I'm saying is that if something should happen to us, and I pray that it is me. I want our daughter to have something special to remember us by. Not something physical, for it could be lost or stolen. I want it to be something that no one can take away from her. And that is why I think...perhaps we should each choose a first and last name for her." The sentiment was bringing small tears to Gloria's eyes. Her husband smiled sweetly and gently wiped them away.

"You may have the first pick, my love," she said with a smile. She looked to her newborn daughter. "What should be her first name?"

"Well," Yuji thought for a moment, "it seems like in the place the season is summer year-round. Knowing her mother, I can tell she will be stunningly beautiful." Gloria smiled and blushed lightly. "Natsumi, translates to 'summer beauty'. That shall be her first name. Now, you may pick her last name." Like her husband, Gloria considered name possibilities for a moment.

"Well, I want my daughter to be pure of heart. Like the white petals of the magnolia flower," Gloria said gazing warmly at the baby. "Eloxochitl, translates to 'magnolia'."

"That's an excellent choice, dear," Yuji said, kissing his wife quickly. "Natsumi Eloxochitl, 'Summer Beauty Magnolia'."

My father was smart to think of that name idea. For nearly a decade later, he had a bad run in with local drug dealers. It wasn't his fault, simply the wrong place at the wrong time. But it didn't matter to them. They gunned him down, dispose of any witnesses I suppose. "Summer Beauty" was the name he gave me. Beauty, something that's hard to come by in the slums I live in. I didn't feel beautiful. Not after he died. I felt sad, confused, enraged, and most of all, vengeful. Something strange happened after that day. I had ran out of the house and into the small park in our part of the slum. I was angrier than i had ever been. When I punched my hand into the ground, I saw a jagged, black, rocky sword in the ground right next to me. I jumped back, only to find that the sword followed me. I saw that in the place where my forearm and hand had just been was replaced by...a sword. I began to recognize the type of rock it was made from. My mother had told me stories about the great Jaguar Warriors of the Aztec Nation. How they wielded weapons forged from volcanic glass called obsidian. When my anger subsided from my new discovery, the sword disappeared, and my arm was there once more. With this newfound power, I felt...invincible. No one would dare cross someone with a sword for an arm. I ran back to my apartment to show my mother. She was scared at first, thinking I had mutilated myself. But I changed my sword back into an arm to show her it was all natural. I wanted to go after them, the drug dealers who took my father from me. To wipe them out, like the invasive hostile insects they were. But my mother, the ever kind-hearted soul she was, stopped me. I didn't understand how she could deal with those men still breathing. Perhaps she was stronger than me. I obeyed, not wanting to upset her. She was all I had left and I loved her so much. In time, the pain ebbed away. Not for good, but less intense if anything. I was a sweet girl. I helped my mother with everything. Almost as if I were the man of the house. I understood I had many responsibilities now, but I was carefree at times. Sometimes on weekends, I would beg my mother to let me venture into the city of Rio. See the towering buildings and visit the lovely beaches. Half of the time she would kindly oblige. My mother had aged even faster with stress of the favela so she couldn't make the trip. She was young, but she did not feel it. Whenever I returned from my ventures, I would regail it to her in the finest detail. Even though the city was constantly changing, my stories would be more or less the same. Nonetheless my mother would pay me the highest attention. I loved my father and still missed him and I hadn't even known him as long as I had my mother. That's what made her passing all the more tragic. She died peacefully at least, gone calmly with the whispering wind of death. Even so, I was left alone. No one to tell me to keep control of my more negative feelings. And so they came back in a torrent. All the revenge I had once sought to reek upon the villains who took my father could now come to fruition.

Natsumi wandered the nighttime streets of the favela, hoping to come across some sign of the dealers. She was dressed in a long black trench coat, tan baseball cap, and a red bandanna typed around her mouth. She had hidden her long hair under the hat and down the back of her coat. This wasn't the first time she had done this. In fact, it was the fourth time. Natsumi had found a drug dealer the second time and two the last time. When she found then, she quickly and mercilessly dispatched them. It wasn't easy the first time. She had found refuge in a lone alleyway and puked violently. But since then she had gained a stomach for killing. She casually leaned against a wall as she overlooked the crowd. It had been a good 20 minutes before she saw two gruff men conversating about 12 feet from her. She charted a route past them and to a fruit stand as not to arouse their suspicion. When she passed them, she heard mention of warehouse by the dock that the one man need a "key" to. The other man responded nonchalantly saying he could give the man they keys to 20 warehouses if he wanted to. It was a drug dropoff. Talking about 20 kilograms of drugs in a warehouse that they were probably headed to. The two men split up and Natsumi decided to follow. It didn't matter which man she followed, since they were both headed to the same destination. Before Natsumi could pursue them, a tiny hand grabbed her own. She quickly turned to see a small boy, probably 9 years of age, and his little sister clinging to his other hand.

"Please, mister," the boy pleaded, "could you spare us some money. My sister and I are starving." Natsumi knew this could be a scam, but there was a certain look in the eyes of the boy and his sister that told her they were for real. Growing up in the favela herself, she could tell when poor children were lying just to scam money off people. Natsumi looked at the fruit vendor, who was occupied with another customer at the moment. She then quickly swiped a bundle of bananas and handed it off to the boy.

"Now get out of here, quick," Natsumi sternly whispered. The young boy nodded with a smile and he and his sister quickly scurried away. Remembering what she was out to do, Natsumi quickly walked down the side street one of the men took and continued to follow him to the warehouse. She arrived there and hid behind a large wooden crate. She peaked around the crate to see the two meeting up in front of the warehouse. One man knocked on the door and the two were quickly let in. Natsumi ran quickly to the side of the warehouse and peared through the window. There were 10 other guys in the warehouse. Natsumi knew that she couldn't take them all at once, so she thought on whether to pick them off one by one or forget about it and save this for another night. Before she had a chance to decide, a blaring light came from behind her and she heard the sound of rifles cocking. She looked behind her and could make out at least six armed men aiming at her and two cars blaring their high beams in her face. She quickly turned her arms into swords, but before she could act a man got out of one of the cars and walked out into the light. He wore a clean white suit with a black shirt and a gold tie. His outfit practically reflected all the light off him. He was handed a cigar by one of his henchmen, another one came to cut the end of the cigar, and another came to light it. The man in the suit took a big puff before taking out of his mouth to speak.

"So you're the little bitch who's been butchering my dealers in the streets," the man said, exhaling a large amount of cigar smoke. Natsumi didn't speak and glared at the man. Her sword arms ready for any heat that comes her way. Though she wasn't sure how she'd fare against 6 men armed with high-powered, automatic weapons. The man continued.

"You know, I didn't think much of you at first," he said, taking another smoke of his expensive cigar. "You took out one of my dealers and I said 'Fine, fuck him. He was stupid to let a little favela girl get the jump on him.' But then you killed two more, so I figured then you weren't planning on stopping. Seeing all these bloody heaps that WERE my dealers, a lot of customers became reluctant to do business with me. Fuck with my dealers? Meh, I can always hire more. Fuck with my money?" He took one last smoke of his cigar, threw it on the floor, and crushed it beneath his shoe. "Now we've got a big fucking problem." The man's face was emotionless, but Natsumi could feel the anger and rage he felt towards her. The man turned and began to walk back to the car.

"Kill her," with that order and a lazy wave of his hand, the armed goons prepared to open fire. This was it. Natsumi tried her hardest to avenge her father's death, but this is where the road of vengeance had led her. She knew she was a second away from death, but she wasn't worried. In her short 14 years of life, she hadn't gotten to know many people. So no one would cry or mourn if her story happened to end too soon. Besides, she would be reunited with her parents soon enough. As Natsumi readied herself for her impending demise, something crashed down into the ground just in front of the armed men. There was a large rumble in the ground and the air was filled with the dust of broken concrete. Natsumi was knocked down from the impact, but she could here what was going on. Guns being fired, large objects being swung, bodies being smashed and knocked away. Slowly the dust began to clear, and through it Natsumi could see small, glowing red orbs hovering above the ground. She then saw the figure of a person standing in the middle of it all. The figure began walking toward her. Natsumi, not knowing the nature of the figure, brought up her sword arms in an act of defense. The figure stopped and slowly raised its arms, then a voice came from it. It was the voice of a woman.

"It's okay," the woman said, "I'm not going to hurt you. You can put those away." The woman came out of the dust so Natsumi could now see her. She had long blonde hair which was parted in a zigzag. She wore a dress with long black sleeves and a yellow zigzag pattern in the front from the waist down. She also wore an eyepatch on her left eye which was decorated with a yellow circle with a lightning bolt going through it. She had a warm, kind smile on her face which helped ease Natsumi a litte. Natsumi felt she could trust this woman, she did just save her life after all. She transformed her swords back into arms and sat up facing the woman.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the woman said, continuing to smile at the girl. "My name is Marie. What's yours?" Natsumi stared at the woman for a moment. She then took the bandanna from her mouth so she could speak.

"Natsumi," she said plainly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Natsumi," Marie said, smiling and tilting her head a bit. This woman was most likely in her mid to late 20's, but she had a very young and cute look about her.

"Who are you," Natsumi questioned. "Where did you come from?"

"Well, um, how should I put all this," Marie thought, rubbing her chin. "Well, I come from a place far away from here. And uh..." Natsumi could see Marie seemed rather flustered in her explanation. What could she know that was so complicated?

"Well, I guess it'd be better just to show you," Marie said finally. "Now please, don't be alarmed by what I show you. Again, I don't mean any harm." The woman extended her arm and in a familiar flash of light her arm was suddenly a large hammer-like weapon. Natsumi was shocked beyond belief. This unassuming woman was just like...just like her.

"Y-You can do that, too," Natsumi exclaimed.

"Well, yes," Marie said, transforming her hammer back to an arm. "I come from a place where lots of people can do this. We're known as Demon Weapons." Marie could see that Natsumi was put off a bit by the mention of demons. Was there something wrong with Natsumi? Was she a demon?

"Oh, uh, no. It's not like," Marie said shaking her head, worried that she may have set the wrong image. "You and I, we're not demons or anything. It's just in the name. We're both as human as can be...except for the weapon part, I guess." Natsumi looked confused as ever. Marie closed her eyes, collected her thoughts, and took a deep breath.

"I come from Death Weapon Meister Academy, or the DWMA for short," Marie began anew, sounding a lot more sure of herself. "It is a school where gifted individuals, like ourselves, fight against evil. We are the tools of our partners, known as Meisters, to collect evil souls that have strayed from the path of humanity. I was sent here because we got word of a young girl who recently discovered her weapon abilities. I'm guessing that would be you." She finished this all of with a small, sheepish smile. Natsumi looked past Marie at the glowing red orbs still hovering slowly above the ground. Those must be the evil souls she was talking about. Figures they would come from such men as those filthy drug dealers. Then a sudden realization came over Natsumi.

"What...about me," Natsumi said almost in a whisper. "What about my soul?" She had remembered that she herself had in fact killed 3 men already. Perhaps her soul wasn't pure enough to be a good Demon Weapon. Maybe she herself was already heading off the road of humanity. Marie gave another kind smile and took off Natsumi's hat so she could better look at her. She placed a warm hand on Natsumi's cheek.

"I know about what's happened to you," Marie said. "I know about the hardship you've gone through. All the rage, sadness, and pain you've felt. But I can still see in those eyes of yours there's a bright and pure soul inside of you. Sure, it has been dirtied a bit, but there's no permanent damage." Natsumi didn't know what to say. Such kindness and compassion shown to a complete stranger. The tender hand on her cheek almost reminded her of her mother's. And it was with that thought that tears began slowly welling up in Natsumi's eyes. Without control, Natsumi wrapped her arms around Marie and began crying and wailing into her shoulder. She didn't know what else to do, it was instinctive. Marie then hugged Natsumi back and began lightly stroking her hair.

"It's okay," Marie said. "You've been strong long enough. Now just let it all out."

Natsumi woke up in her bed of her family's apartment. She slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes. How did she wind up back here? Just then, there was a knock on her room's door.

"Uh, come in," Natsumi called out. The door opened and Marie poked her head inside.

"Oh, it's good to see you're awake," Marie said, now walking in and sitting kn the edge of Natsumi's bed. "So how did you sleep?"

"I slept well, thanks," Natsumi answered. "Um, what are you doing here? How did we get back to my apartment?"

"You cried yourself to sleep in my arms last night," Marie explained. "So I carried you back here. Thankfully you were still conscious enough to give me a couple directions." Marie giggled a bit, which made Natsumi smile. "I stayed here overnight just to make sure you were safe. I hope that was okay."

"Yes, thank you," Natsumi said.

"Well, I'll let you rest a little more. Then perhaps if you'd like, we could go out somewhere to eat. Your pick, my treat," Marie suggested.

"That sounds great," Natsumi answered, "thank you." Marie nodded and turned to leave. Suddenly, Natsumi grabbed her sleeve which made her turn back in surprise.

"M-Ms. Marie," Natsumi began.

"It's okay, you can just call me Marie," she answered with a small smile.

"Oh, okay," Natsumi said. "Marie, I...I...I," Natsumi was having trouble getting the words out. "I...I want to go to the DWMA with you. So I can become a proper Demon Weapon." Natsumi almost had to make herself shout it to get it out. Marie was stunned by the sudden request.

"Are you sure, Natsumi," Marie said. "It's your choice, you don't have to." Natsumi looked up at her with a fiery determination in her eyes.

"I'm absolutely positive," Natsumi stated. Marie gave Natsumi a bright smile.

"Alright then, we can leave tomorrow if you're truly ready," Marie said. Natsumi returned her smile.

"I'm ready."

**Thank you all you beautiful persons for reading my story. I'll try to have the third chapter up soon. See ya then.**


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